I Am A Glorious Barbarian With A Golden Touch. Poem by kyle turner

Rescue this dull heartache
from the inclement whether,
I’ve designed a bullet proof bird bath
for it to rest in.

Whispers and whip cracks
like a picture of you’re missing child
in the cracker jack box,
I’m a salty piece of cheese.

Blank stares and carbon footprints
through the backyard
leading toward the lumber mill,
where know one returns from.

Lick your wounds little woman
for the man child is reborn to the moon
in the ferocious garden perpetual silence,
a mistake in the thereafter.

In this two headed witch hunt
all the souls of this very moment,
in this very city,
are stuck in a web together.

She’s got an ice tongue
and I’m under the weather.


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